That sixth sense when sailing transatlantic

The stories of open ocean crossings few people tell....
When sharing stories with other sailors about ocean crossings, in my experience, those are mostly tales about winds, sail settings, provisioning... But, for me, there is more to an ocean crossing than that... For me, an ocean crossing is about opening my senses... And at times, my senses go "really open" :-)

Here is one story.. I am looking forward to hear other stories from other ocean sailors about "extra-ordinary" things that happened to them, which make "open ocean sailing".... eh... "special"...

This is my story of my most "meta-physical" experience when crossing an ocean:

The setting: It is 2006. It was my 4th or 5th ocean crossing, and my first trans-atlantic trip...
One night: We were somewhere between Cape Verde and the Caribbean. I had the night shift with Pete, who had been my watch-mate for over a month already by then, as we are re-locating our boat (a 57ft Beneteau) from Southampton to the Caribbean.

Pete and I, initially, banged heads as we were both strong-willed people, but through the daily watches (sailing, cooking and cleaning) we did together, we grew to like each other, trust each other, and started to have loads of fun together, especially during our mid-night watches.

That one night in the mid-Atlantic, I remember very well!
The skies were clear, but it was dark. I mean "pitch dark". There was no moon. Around our vessel, we could not see anything. Meta-physically, it seemed our 57ft boat was sailing at 10 kts into a void of nothing-ness.

At a certain point, around midnight, I told Pete: "I feel we're not alone....." Pete looks at me with void eyes... I tell him: "I can feel a presence around us..... Someone is right here, close to us, very close"..
At that point, Pete laughed at me, asking if I smoked the wrong stuff, or had snorted some of the dried mushroom soup we found in the galley earlier in the day, in a plastic bag. But I insisted: while we could see nothing, and had no visual contact with any land or another vessel for days, I... I... I just could sense someone was close to us. Very close.

We did not have AIS ("Automatic Identification System) back then, in 2006. So, we looked at the radar, and strangely enough, one second we could see a faint blip close to us, and then, nothing..... The blip looked like reflections from a wave....: A small radar-blip and then nothing again... Was there someone?
The blip was quite close to our boat... But it was there and the next second, it was gone. And a minute later, it appeared again.

We always had our VHF radio in the cockpit on channel 16, but had not heard a beep for days. On a hunch, I just pushed the PTT ("Push to Talk") of microphone on our VHF, on channel 16. I did not say anything, but just keyed the microphone on and off, and that's it. And, ......... a PTT-click came back on the radio. Loud, strong and clear. The hair on the back of my neck stood up... Someone clicked his VHF radio, And that someone was someone close by....

Pete and I looked at each other in disbelief. After days of radio-silence, days without having seen any other signs of life - or another vessel -, we heard a PTT-click on the radio. I keyed the VHF radio again, and this time, I said something like: "General call on one-six, this is sailing vessel Persuader Too, at (coordinates)".

Lo-and-behold, immediately came an answer with a clear and loud voice "Persuader Too, this is sailing yacht Daddledu on one-six, hearing you loud and clear".
From the clarity of their VHF transmission, we realized that Daddledu was close to us. We asked them to give a light signal, so we could physically locate them. And a single white light signal, probably from a flashlight, came back......... Daddledu was not just "in our vicinity"....... they were about 100m off our starboard. We could almost touch them.

We chatted on the VHF radio. They were a German crew and on their way to Barbados. They were not taking part in the ARC, as we were. We asked why they were not showing any navigation lights? They responded they had been dis-masted some 500 miles back and hence were trying to conserve as much power as possible, while they put up a make-shift jury-rig to continue some sailing. So they had switched off all navigation lights.
Their skipper was a guy called Jens. Asking if we could assist, he said they were all OK but would appreciate it if we could relay a communication or send an e-mail to the skipper's wife Angelica back in Germany, to let her know what happened to their rig, that they were safe but their arrival in Barbados would be much later than expected.
Which we did.

We never actually "saw" Daddledu. Only saw their single light flash and heard their voice on VHF. By the time daylight came through, we had already passed them by 30-40 miles. A light ping in the dark, and a VHF-voice in the void.. In the middle of no-where. That was our encounter.

From that moment on, Pete never doubted by sixth-sense again.

Picture: Me at the helm of Persuader Too in 2006, in the mid Atlantic, the morning after our Daddledu encounter... 🙂

Read the full post...

The Flying Dutchman. Or not

Another story of "real weird stuff" happening during an ocean crossing...

The setting: It is late 2022. We are sailing S/V Nerio, a 72ft Jongert 2200S, from Gibraltar to the Canaries.
We are three onboard: "Peter One", the skipper and owner; Hanne, a friend of the skipper; and myself "Peter Two". Hanne does not sail, but helps with the cooking and boat chores, so the skipper and I sail this thoroughbred racing cruiser with 4 hour single watches: 4 hours on and 4 hours off.

One early morning, just around sunrise, we must have been 3 days into our passage from Gibraltar to Las Palmas: As I wake up, I hear the engine running: there is no wind, we’re motoring.

I come on deck, ready to start my watch. The sea is flat calm. Not a whisper of wind. I find both Peter and Hanne in the cockpit, looking intensely towards the horizon on our port.

They look at me, as I take a seat in the cockpit. They say "Good morning", and immediately turn their heads again to our port side. I ask them "What's up? Anything wrong?!"

And Peter says: "We seem to have a Flying Dutchman" and points to the navigation screen, which shows an AIS signal close to our boat. For the non-sailors: "AIS"= "Automated Identification System", an automated data-gram transmitted via VHF radio from each boat, identifying who they are, where they are, their speed, course, and optionally destination, length-width, etc..).

And the AIS screen indeed clearly shows a solid green IAS blip of a cargo vessel which is supposed to be about half a mile off our port side.

Even though the sun is just rising, and the sky is quite bright already, in a pale-white/light grey way, we don't see any vessel. We see water and sky, all in different shades of light grey-ish, making it difficult to distinguish between sky, horizon and the sea. But no ship. Very calm sea with a light ocean swell transitioning into a rather grey sky, somewhat typical for a morning pre-sunrise.

"A Flying Dutchman", Peter repeats, "A ghost ship.. Seems there is nothing there".

Now I know it is possible AIS, like any computer system, gets screwed up, and transmits or receives wrong data. But still... this is all slightly worrying, as according to the AIS, we should have a 250m long cargo vessel about 600 meters from our port. In land-lubber terms that might sound like quite a distance between us, but when you are sailing, that is a distance --mmmmh.. slightly outside of our comfort zone.. Normally we like to keep 1 Nautical mile or 1.8 kilometers from cargo vessels, as a safety buffer zone.

We look again. And see nothing. "Yep, probably a phantom signal, showing a ghost ship on our AIS..", we conclude...

But... we keep looking... The sun is not out yet, so the sky is light-grey and there is slighter horizontal darker-grey rim, which must be the horizon, we guess. But no sight of a vessel. Just to make sure, we switch on the radar (which we only run occasionally, to save power), and gosh: the same blip we have on AIS, we can see on the radar too....There MUST be a vessel out there. No way both radar and AIS could be wrong....

And right at that moment, something happens... Some of the slightly darker grey horizontal layers in the sky we saw earlier on our port side, which we mistook for a horizon, clears up, making it now obvious what is happening: we are sailing in a really low fog-bank and had not even realized it, with all of that grey-ish-ness around us.
Like in the movies: the fog parted in just a few seconds, and like curtains on a stage opening up slowly, the mist bank clears, and we see a massive cargo ship, indeed, half a mile off our port side.

We are sailing in a fog bank without even realizing it. It was not a ghost signal from a "Flying Dutchman"... All our instruments showed the correct data... The early morning mist had fooled us.

And that is what I find intriguing about sailing. No matter my 20 years of sailing, every single day at sea, I learn something new. And nature, the elements, or circumstances, present me something new, not experienced before. And we learn. Sailing is not about training certificates, it is about experience. And no matter how much I sail, no matter how the experiences rack up, I am still learning new things, experience new stuff, e-v-e-r-y single day.

That day, I learned to trust AIS and radar, beyond relying solely on what I can see...
And there is also an other story coming up, showing that solely relying on instruments, without visual verification, is not enough either :-) :-) ...

Sailing, hey! :-)

Read the full post...

Know the navigation tools you use!

Three weeks ago.

Things are a bit intense here aboard Manami II. We are about 100-150 Nm WSW off the Portuguese SW corner. It is very early in the morning hours... The sky is dark grey, half lit,... but we don't know if the faint light comes from the moon or if the sun is actually raising at dawn. And the wind is absolutely ***howling*** in the rigging, at 30-35 kts. We are wet, we are cold, we are tired, and we're in the deep end of a low pressure area, sailing South.

Normally, when sailing to the Canaries, I don't venture that far West, in the open Atlantic ocean, as normally I come in from South Spain, Gibraltar or Southern Portugal and cut across the most Western Gibraltar Traffic Separation zone (TSS), which is wayyy further East.

But this time, we came from the UK, hugging the Spain and Portugal West coast, to cut across to the Canaries.

Apparently.......... there are two shallow areas (20-25m depth) underwater mountains raising steeply from 1000-2000m depth to +-20m, in the middle of the ocean in the area we were about to cross (picture below - iSailor screenshot).

It took me by surprise as normally, when I come in from Gibraltar we don't venture that far offshore, west. But the real surprise was that the (expensive, annual renewable) Navionics charts we have on our tablets/phones/chart plotter,... did NOT show any details of these shallows, unless if fully zoomed in. Reminds me of Vestas/11th Hour crash onto a non-zoomed-in reef off Madagascar, in the Volvo Ocean race some years ago, right?

And even when fully zoomed in, those Navionics charts did not show any details at all. (see pic below of a Navionics screen shot - no details of the depths, and no details there were actually two underwater peaks - compare to the below iSailor screen shots)

Meanwhile, my mickey-mouse cheap (and no longer supported/updated) iSailor maps on my Iphone, clearly showed the shallows, even when zoomed fully out.

WTF Navionics/Garmin?!?! Like, really, WTF?!?

I mean.. we came across those shallows in 35 kts wind in the dark. There must have been significant weird currents and standing waves, if we were to have gone over these shallows.

Navionics, hey..!? A cheap no-longer supported app like iSailor with outdated charts, payable “once and good for life”, outranks an app like Navionics in details?! A bit scary, knowing Navionics is used and dearly paid for - thru annual expensive subscriptions - by many cruisers?!

Lessons learned: Electronic charts are fine, but know the limitations of the tool. And compare different tools. I am sticking to iSailor which saved my *ss so many times in the past. Even if the tool is no longer supported, and charts have not been updated for a while.

And by the way, over the years, I had too many instances of navigation bouys marked in Navionics, but which nowhere to be spotted in “real life”. That means, as a full-time sailor, I would never rely on this over-priced, faulty piece of crap software, as my sole navigation aid. 

*end of rant*

Read the full post...

The Skipper's Rules for Ocean Passages

Over the past years, I have been mentoring/guiding yacht owners to prepare for ocean passages. Many of them had previously sailed for years and knew their boat well. But typically, they day-sailed, adding an occasional overnight passage, but had never done a long open ocean passage before.

The main challenge I have seen is that many skippers consider an ocean passage of e.g. 17 days, as “just 17x a day passage”. A common mistake. An ocean passage is very different from day sailing. I wrote an earlier blogpost about how to prepare a boat for an ocean passage. In this post, I want to focus more on the crew, management of expectations and clear understandings of what both the skipper and the crew expect from the trip and each other..

One of the things I have been insistent on, is to establish clear “rules” onboard, clarifying what a skipper/owner expects of his/her crew and how the crew is expected to work and live on the boat.

Unclear rules, lead to confused expectations of either side – the skipper or the crew - and lead to conflicts or bad feelings during a passage. And you do NOT want that… As a skipper, you’d want all your crew to be “tuned in”, and agreeing what and how you want to do your upcoming ocean passage, and for all to have an enjoyable passage. As a crew, you’d want to know not only “what” to do, but also “how to do it”.

Here is an outline of “The Skipper’s Rules” for an ocean passage which I use, where you, as skipper, can start from. Adapt where you see fit. None of this is cast in concrete. The important thing is “to establish the rules and expectations”, in whichever form.

(1) Our goal

Our main goal is to get the boat and crew safely from A to B, with the least wear and tear on the boat. Our secondary goal is to be able to enjoy the uniqueness of a passage in an open ocean, an opportunity only few people are privileged to enjoy.

(2) The Skipper

On any boat, there is only one skipper, who makes the final call on anything related to the boat and passage. He/she might consult with others, but the skipper makes the final call.

(3) The First Mate

The first mate is the 2nd in command on a boat, and typically takes care of the day-to-day management of the boat and crew. If the skipper becomes incapacitated, the first mates takes over command of the yacht.

(4) Safety first

- When new crew boards a ship, the skipper or first mate should give a thorough safety briefing. A safety briefing consists of a run-through of all equipment on board (fire extinguishers, fire blankets, main cut-off switches, person-over-board and emergency equipment) and the basic safety procedures, including "MOB"- or "Man (person)-over-board".
- Rule #1: don't fall overboard. Rule #2: don't fall overboard. Rule #3: don't fall overboard.
- PFDs ("Personal Floatation Devices" or "Life jackets") are to be worn at night, as of sunset to sunrise, for all crew on deck, even in the cockpit. PFDs are also to be worn when working on the top/foredeck in rough seas, even during daytime. Beyond that, if the skipper deems the seas to be rough or winds to be unstable (e.g. incoming squalls) or strong (e.g. 20+ knots) winds, he/she can call for "PFDs on" for all crew on deck at any time.
- Beyond that, crew can always put on their PFD, whenever they feel uncomfortable.
- In high swells, particularly at night, crew is to be clipped on with their lifelines, even when in the cockpit. In rough weather, crew is always to be clipped on when working on top/foredeck, day or night.

(5) Night sailing

- PFD's on, at all times during night hours, for any crew on deck, even in the cockpit.
- Crew stays in the cockpit area, and do not go onto the top/foredeck unless if it is really needed.
- If work needs to be done on top/foredeck at night, there always have to be at least two crew on deck: one in the cockpit and one doing the work on the top/foredeck.
- At night, crew uses head torches, with red-only lights. White lights can be used to occasionally look at the sails or to look forward of the ship, but in general, white lights should be avoided, even below deck.

(6) Alcohol

- No alcohol during the passage, except, an optional sunset crew-toast (if the skipper agrees) with a beer/glass of wine (and one beer/glass of wine only), but no hard liquor. “Dry boat” or “sunset drink only”, is a skipper’s choice/decision. I am equally happy on a total dry boat, or one where we have a sunset drink).
- The night before leaving for a passage: no heavy drinking or partying. For the start of any passage, the crew has to be at their best.

(7) Drugs and smoking

- No drugs allowed on board.
- The skipper defines if smoking is allowed onboard - which is a deal-breaker for me, as “my only vice in life” is that I smoke. But I try to be really “social” in my smoking: I only smoke downwind, and put my ashes in a small lid-locked ash tray.

(8) Watches

- Watches are pre-scheduled, agreed by and followed by all crew.
- Watches come on deck, on time. Keep in mind, that in rough or cold weather, you might need 20 minutes to get your gear on, and prepare a coffee. But… be on time!
- At any time, at least one person is to be on watch.
- The person on watch is in charge of the ship’s operation and crew safety during their watch. The person on watch pays full attention to the boat, traffic, sea state, wind, potential hazards (fishing pods or nets, objects in the water,..) and weather.
- A person on watch uses eyes, ears, and feeling to their full capacity to ensure safety of ship and crew. As such, even when sailing on autopilot, the watch sits at – or near – the helm, paying full attention to the boat and its surroundings.
- As a watch keeps an “eye”, “feeling” and “ear” on the boat, it is preferred not to use headsets or ear-phones as it dumbs your hearing. If you like some background music during your watch, use a bluetooth speaker…
- Each watch has a "buddy system". The watch can call on their "buddy" for sail changes or any assistance needed during their watch. If need be, the watch calls on the skipper when in doubt, or before any significant decisions.
- If, for any reason, those who are to be on watch are not up to their task (sea sickness e.g.), they ask an alternate (typically "their buddy") to take over their watch.
- If the person on watch observes a significant change in weather or sea state, which requires sail changes, they call on backup crew (typically "their buddy") to assist with sail changes. Some sail changes (e.g. dropping the spinnaker) might need “more hands on deck”, a call to be made by the watch.
- if those on watch feel uncomfortable at any time, or question themselves if sail changes or significant course changes etc… are needed, they call on their buddy, or call on the skipper to confirm their intended changes
- If in any doubt, do not hesitate to wake up the skipper. The skipper needs to trust you to call on him or her, if you need help

(9) Proximity to other vessels

- In open sea, we keep a nominal safe distance ("CPA" or "Closest Point of Approach") of 1 nautical mile from any cargo vessel. In more close quarters (coastal passages, busy traffic lanes), 0.5 Nmiles CPA (aft or alongside a cargo vessel) is acceptable, but no less. If in doubt, we call them on VHF to agree how we will pass each other.
- By preference we cross the path of cargo vessels aft of them, and not in front of them. If we have little other alternative but to pass in front of a motor vessel, we keep a safe distance – e.g. 3 miles separation in front of a cargo vessel moving at 15 knots is fine, but we keep much more separations from catamaran ferries moving at 40 knots! If in doubt, we call them on VHF to agree how we will pass each other.
- As fishing vessels tend to make erratic/random course changes, we keep a minimal separation of 1 mile with fishing vessels. We keep in mind that fishing vessels can troll long nets or miles-long floating lines, so by preference we cross in front of fishing vessels, giving them plenty of separation dependent on the speed they move at. If in doubt, we call them on VHF to agree how we will pass each other.
- Even when under sail, by preference we change course to keep a safe distance from cargo or fishing vessels, except if we have little maneuverability (e.g. when sailing under spinnaker, or in areas with very dense traffic). We keep in mind that e.g. a 200m long cargo vessel travelling at 20 knots has very limited maneuverability. If in doubt, we call them on VHF to agree how we will pass each other.
- Other sailing vessels, we can pass at 0.5 miles separation, or less, but the closer we pass other sailing vessels, the sharper we keep a look-out: Other sailing yachts might not pay attention, or not know/respect the collision rules,.. As such, we always have an “alternative/emergency maneuver” in our mind, to avoid “close calls”. If in doubt, we call them on VHF to agree how we will pass each other.
- Whenever in doubt, don’t be shy to call the other vessel on VHF to confirm (1) if they see us on AIS/radar and (2) how we will pass each other.

(10) Wear and tear on the boat

- The sunrise watch makes a tour of the vessel to inspect any wear and tear of the standing and running rigging, and to inspect the deck.
- The sunrise watch clears the deck of any flying fish or other bits (e.g. sea weed) and if need be (if fresh water is available), rinses the cockpit windows
- any bits and pieces which might have fallen off the rigging, any damage, wear-and-tear, or any points of (possible) shafing, is to be reported to the skipper.
- Nuts, bolts, rods or other hardware bits found on deck, can be a sign of an impeding larger problem, so do not take this lightly…

(11) Weather predictions

The skipper or first mate check weather predictions daily. Based on the predictions, the skipper can make changes in sail plan, course or overall passage plan.

And now for a slightly less “black-and-white” authoritarian advice. But still, just as important…

(12) “Everything has its place”

Or in other words: on a well-organized boat, “everything lives somewhere”. If everyone (especially guest crew) start “using stuff” (tools, cooking utensils, etc…), it is important to “put it back where you found it”.
It is frustrating to have to look through the entire boat to find the darned binoculars, the deck flashlight, or the darned can-opener. Or the preventer lines, which seem to keep on moving between different lazarettes etc..
From experience, I know, as the ocean passage goes on, crew often get more tired, and “the temper fuses” start to get shorter. Simple stuff like “Who did not put the cutting board back on its usual place?”, “why does the coffee jar keep on moving between cupboards?” can become a source of frustration.
But there is also a safety component: If the VHF handheld, the binoculars, the deck flashlight, the backup head torch, spare lines etc.. all have their dedicated place, we won’t lose time looking for them, when “things get hairy”.

(13) Cost sharing

- Agree with the skipper which costs will be shared amongst the crew, and how the common costs will be tracked. In the past, we had different agreements: on some boats, the crew agreed to share the marina fees and fuel, while on others, we did not. Do agree on forehand.
- Other common expenses, such as crew dinners and drinks, provisioning, communications’ (Starlink!) costs etc.. can be tracked via simple apps such as “Tricount”. Common crew expenses should be settled before any crew leaves the boat.

(14) Visitors

- For a yacht owner, his/her boat is his/her home. So, as crew, we need to take that into consideration when inviting other people onboard, while at anchor or in a marina.
- Agree with the skipper/owner, if it is ok to bring visitors aboard, even for a quick visit.

And now moving onto even less “black-and-white” advice.

“A well-fed crew, is a happy crew”. And the way meals are scheduled, prepared, and shared, is very often a reflection of the dynamics amongst a boat-crew…! It is important to agree, before the passage, when meals are prepared and who prepares them, as it often takes – dependent on the sea state – considerable effort to prepare meals on a rolling and pitching boat.

Here is my advice:

(15) Cooking

- Each day, one person (or a pair-of-persons in larger crews) is pre-appointed to cook the main meal of the day. This is typically the evening meal, preferably to served before sunset.
- If possible, we extract this person (or pair), called “the mother watch”, out of the normal sailing watch schedule for that day. E.g. with four crew, three crew can rotate and cover the 24h sailing watch cycle while one crew can be the mother watch without any sailing duties for that day.
- The mother watch can rotate day per day, with each crew, in turn, taking on the mother watch duties for a day.
- The mother watch is also responsible for cleaning the galley after the cooking: washing dishes, drying them and stowing everything away.
- If it is agreed that the evening meal is the “main meal” of the day, then breakfast and lunch (and anything in-between), can be prepared by anyone or as an additional task which the mother watch can take on.
- As the provisions on a boat are (always) limited in choice, it is preferred one crew is responsible for the overall provisions management. He/She will know what will need to be "used" first (we don't want to throw away too many left-overs, or fruits/vegggies/meat going off because it is not eaten in time). It is preferred, the mother watch checks with the person managing the provisions, what should be "used" first.
- As a courtesy to the crew on watch, and anyone awake at any time, if any of the crew makes breakfast or lunch, it is basic courtesy to check with the others on deck, on watch or awake, if they want breakfast or lunch too. It is not that much of an extra effort to throw in some extra eggs in the pan, or make some extra sandwiches, while you are preparing something for yourself.

I am open for more comments and suggestions, but in the mean time, I wish you a happy and safe ocean crossing!

Read the full post...

"All systems down" - a sketchy arrival in Mindelo - Cape Verde

28-Nov-2022 15:00 Approaching Cape Verde

We had a good passage from Las Palmas to Cape Verde aboard S/V Nerio. With a crew of five plus the skipper, we sailed this ship, un-eventfully, 800 Nm (about 1,500 km) through some pretty stiff winds in five days.

Note that I use the term "ship". Nerio is not a "boat", she is a proper "ship": An aluminium racing cruiser of 72ft (22 meters), with its 30m tall carbon mast, 18 winches (two hydraulic and two driven by pedestrals), 4 meters draft, 40-odd tons of displacement, carbon-laminated mainsail,... She used to dominate off-shore regattas with a crew of 22. She is big, and by far the largest yacht I ever sailed on.

I met Nerio and Peter, her skipper, in Cartagena, a few months earlier, in October. Peter and I had been talking on taking Nerio transatlantic for over 16 months by then. And we stroke a deal then in Cartagena - somewhat induced by one-too-many strong gin-and-tonics (What can I say. The waitress liked me, so double-served the gin part): as I was looking to get the experience in "managing" a bigger yacht, Peter would allow me to be Nerio's first mate, preparing the passage plans, weather routing, pilotage, watch schedule, provisioning...

Kudos to the skipper, in giving me that opportunity and challenge which started early Nov when him and me (plus one more non-sailing crew) ferry'd Nerio from Gibraltar to Las Palmas, in a "4 hours on and 4 hours off" watch schedule between him and me -- the first time, I handled single watches on a big ship like this, raising and dropping sails as we negotiated the Gibraltar straights, one of the world's busiest cargo traffic areas and most complex current/tidal areas.

Where was I.. Oh, right, we were approaching Mindelo, Cape Verde... Mindelo is notorious in the yachting community: The marina is pretty tight, and the larger anchoring area on its Western side is dotted with unmarked wrecks, unlit mooring buoys, abandoned vessels, and sailing yachts at anchor. Most pilot books state "Do NOT approach this port and anchorage at night"...

28-Nov-2022 17:00 Approaching Mindelo

But I had been there a year ago, and stayed at anchor for about a week in front of the marina, so I knew the "lay-of-the-land" a bit.
So, as we approached Mindelo, inbetween the islands of Sao Vicente and Sao Antao, the skipper said: "Right, Peter, you have been here before, you take her in"....
In the days before, via the satphone, I had negotiated a slot in the marina, but I also knew that, by sunset, the marina staff would go home. And we had no time to waste.. Sunset was in about an hour or so..
As we came in the narrows between the islands Sao Vicente and Sao Antao, the sun was setting. We had planned to approach Mindelo on Sao Vicente, in day light, but -as it often goes-, planning is one thing, and the winds is another thing.
So,.. we were late. Mindelo is not a port you want to approach after sunset...

As we saw the lighthouse on the rock of "Djeu", in front of Mindelo approaching, I took over the boat. I briefed the crew of the approach plan. We took the sails down, and put all fenders out, we were ready.

As I had expected, the wind funneled between Sao Vicente and Sao Antao, but the prevailing wind direction (from the NE), really accelerated the wind. Talking about funneling, hey..? This was proper funneling. From a 15 knots wind, approaching the islands, the wind now increased to 20-25-30-35-OMG-40 knots, as we came inbetween the lighthouse on the Djeu rock and the island of Sao Vicente.

As I was standing at the helm, aft of the ship, with the main navigation and monitoring screens further forward in the main cockpit area, and the crew spread on deck, ready for the approach, I throttled the engine into neutral, and Nerio, was still speeding at 3-4 knots, just on the windage of its mast and running rigging. "Interesting,...", I thought, "I never sailed a yacht purely on its windage"...

And that is the moment, it started to get really "interesting"...

28-Nov-2022 18:00 All systems down..!

Just as we rounded the Djeu lighthouse, with all crew ready to pass the commercial port of Sao Vicente on our port side, in 40 kts of wind, I was looking at the different navigation screens and all of a sudden, all screens went blank......... (that is a lot of dots.. reflecting my "OMG" thoughts)...

I had no more chart plotter information, GPS or wind data nor depth reading. I was in command of a 72ft vessel, which was sailing on its windage in a 40kts wind, into a notoriously difficult anchorage, in the dark.., well.. blindly.

Peter, the skipper, tried to reboot the systems, which was a UNIX-based home-brew system, but in vain.... As the sun set behind the horizon and darkness fell, we were blind.

From memory, I recalled I could not take a wide berth to approach the marina, as there were too many half-sunk vessels on the Western side, and many yachts would be anchored there. So, as all crew was standing by on their positions ready for the approach, and the wind hooooowling in the rigging, I took out my iPhone. I had saved the track of the approach we did a year earlier, and I knew, if I followed that track, and stay East of the abandonned vessels, and a bigger fishing vessel (which never seems to move), called "Croix du Sud", we would be safe.

So out came my $800 iPhone, with its saved track,.. and we safely navigated past the commercial port, staying free of the anchored sailing vessels, and all other hazards, approaching the Mindelo marina. I called them on my VHF handheld, and with a torch, they gave a light signal, where to dock - next to the fuel dock -.

As we approached, I gave Nerio's reigns back to Peter, and he safely docked Nerio, to be followed by abundant shrimps dinner, spiced up with local beers.

How a $800 iPhone saved the day, hey?

PS: After some debugging, we found that the navigation systems crashed as the buffer files of the UNIX navigation systems filled up the hard disk, crashing the whole system. A problem which we cured in 1 minute, once identified, by putting in a batch routine to flush all buffers every hour - for the nerds amongst you -.

Read the full post...

A basic checklist for your next ocean passage

I have now done quite a few open ocean passages, and I start to be picky which boat and crew I want to sail with. A well prepared boat and crew is not a guarantee for a pleasant and safe passage, but surely a good starting point.

This is the checklist I made for myself before committing to crew on a boat for an ocean passage, and -though not complete- might also be a base to start from, for any skipper planning an ocean passage, specifically if this is his/her first ocean crossing.

Let me start first, with my key advice: The common mistake I experienced is that many owners or skippers (who never did an ocean passage before) think: "Oh I sailed the Med for 2 years, and did 2-3-4,000 miles in day passages. An ocean passage is just -say- 20 days, so only 20 times a day passage." It is not. Ocean passages are far more stressing on a yacht and its crew. A 20 days open ocean passage needs more preparation than 20 days of day sailing in the Med (or Northsea, or the Baltic). So: prepare well. An open ocean crossing can be your experience of a life-time. You do not want it to be your "this was the time I thought we were toast".

The list starts with stuff related to the boat itself:

Rig inspection

Prior to your trans-ocean passage, have a certified rigger do a thorough standing rigging inspection: condition of the stays, chainplates, spreaders, split-pins, and all connections. Check the condition of the mast. Check all running rigging for chafing. Bring along least one spare halyard and one spare sheet.
And during your ocean passage, part of your early-morning watch duties, is to do a "round-the-boat" visual check on all the rigging and the deck. You might find it silly when I tell you, that I take it really seriously if I find any nut, bolt or any other piece of hardware on the deck, in my morning shift's tour. "Anything that fell off", had a function, and might be a sign of a bigger problem to come. Do not underestimate the continous stress on the boat's rigging, during an ocean passage.

Sail plan

Many ocean passages are done downwind. What is the sail plan? While it is perfectly possible to cross e.g. the Atlantic East-West with a small 100% self-tacking genoa, it might not make for a fast and comfortable crossing.
I'd rather look for a 120+% genoa, preferably with a whisker pole to pole out the genoa: downwind waves will push the boat left-right, deflating and inflating the genoa several times per minute, which will wear out the genoa, and put a lot of stress on the rigging.
Find ways to keep that genoa open. If no whisker pole, possibly find a way to sheet your genoa aft (through spinnaker tackles?), and use a barber hauler to keep pressure on the genoa sheet and trim it better.
Of course it would be nice to have a light downwind sail: a symmetrical or asymmetrical spinnaker (gennaker), or a kite (like a Parasailor), to be used in lighter (<20 kts) winds.
Have a good preventer system for your boom, connected to the end of the boom and onto your deck, preferably onto a cleat. Crash-gybing your mainsail can be a cause of major, if not catastrophic, damage. On several boats we did a crossing with, we always had both starboard and port preventers on, not only to prevent crash gybing but also to avoid excessive deflating/re-inflating of the main sail. The stiffer your mainsail (e.g. with batons), the more likely your mainsail will deflate/re-inflate rather violently, wearing out the sail and cars - and putting pressure on your mast, goose neck and rigging.

Chafing

On an ocean passage, anything which rubs against anything, will cause wear-and-tear or chafing. Even while, for instance, there might not be any tension or pressure between a sheet rubbing over your rail, after 2 weeks of ocean passage's "rubbing", for sure, there will be chafing damage.
Anything flapping (like a loose bit of sail cover) for weeks on end, will get damaged or worn. The foot of your genoa, at the luff e.g., rubbing over your bow's rail, will cause wear and tear.
My advice is to bring along some cheap and real thick plastic water hoses. Any running rigging rubbing against something else? Cut a piece off the hose, splice it, and clamp it over those bits rubbing. It will limit your wear and tear.
One note -though not part of the preparation but as part of your actual ocean crossing-: Twice so far, in a transat, we chafed through our spinnaker halyard, at the top of our mast (see picture). We learned to, every day, tighten or loosen up the spinnaker halyard a bit, changing the point where the halyard is "frictioning" at the top of the mast. A halyard chafing through (with a bang), with your beautiful spinnaker graciously falling into the sea and wrapping itself around your keel and rudder, can cause a major disaster or at least have you loose/damage your spinnaker.

Autopilot

Bless those who sail an ocean passage by hand-steering, but "most of us" use an auto-pilot, which, if well tuned, will steer far better and longer than a human. When is the last time, your autopilot was inspected? Do we have spare pieces for the autopilot, or a backup? I have never sailed with a wind-vane autopilot before, but that looks like a good alternative or backup to an electric autopilot.

Electricity - power management

Talking about "autopilots": if your autopilot is electrical (and not a mechanical wind-vane), your "Bob" (as we used to call our autopilot), will be one of the main sources of electricity consumption. Tip: most electrical autopilots can be "tuned" to helm less aggressively in calmer weather. Reducing your trim rate, rudder gain and counter rudder (or whatever those parameters are called on your autopilot) when you have less wind, will not only reduce your electricity consumption by A LOT, but will also reduce the wear and tear on your autopilot system. You will have to use more aggressive autopilot parameters when sailing in strong winds or bigger waves, though: too slow reaction time/helm correction in heavier weather might have your boat broaching. And broaching in big waves/strong winds hardly ever ends up well...
Back to "electricity": Atop of your autopilot add the consumption of fridge, freezer, pumps, radar, communications (Starlink! - see further), navigation, inverter, charging devices, watermaker etc etc etc ... and it is highly likely that whatever battery charging solar panels, wind generator and hydro-chargers you have, to charge your batteries when doing day-cruising, will not be able to keep up with the demand for electricity on an ocean passage, sailing for 24h/day, for weeks on end.
Wind generators are not very efficient when sailing downwind. The efficiency of hydrovanes is questionable - and sooo many buddy boats we sailed with on ocean passages had structural issues with hydro-generators getting hammered by the ocean waves, coming in from aft.
The efficiency of your solar panels might be limited in hazy/cloudy conditions, if not shaded from the sun by your mainsail/rigging.
Choice is yours how you want to top off your house batteries: do you have a built-in generator aboard? Will you charge from the alternator on the main engine (maybe not a good idea if you have a turbo-charged engine, as charging batteries is typically done on lower RPM without engaging the turbo).
On several boats we sailed across oceans, we had a small 0.9-1 KVA standalone generator we used to charge the batteries at night. A cheap and effective solution.
Oh, and those two 5-year-old 120 Ah lead-acid house batteries you used -up to now- for day cruising in the Med, might not be enough to hold the charge or keep up with the power consumption needed for a longer ocean passage, especially if you cycled (discharged) them too deep in the past, even once: deep-cycled lead-acid batteries typically only hold 50% or less charge than their spec'd capacity.
The good news is that it is pretty easy to calculate your electricity consumption versus your battery capacity versus your charging capacity. So,... make the calculation, and figure out an efficient and cost effective solution to charge those batteries!

Water

Sure you can cross an ocean using the capacity of your normal 200l water tank and some spare jerrycans. It will demand strict water-usage "rules", though. Better if you have a water-maker, and better still if it is built-in, in the boat, with its saltwater in-take through a built-in seacock. A "portable" watermaker, with an intake via a floating tube, did not work well in our previous passage: we never found a way to ensure the intake tube stayed well under water. The intake sucked air bubbles (might have been cavitation bubbles), which can damage the membranes, and made any "water making session", a labour-intense and tiring venture.

Emergency and safety equipment

I do insist on a (properly registered and serviced) EPIRB (satellite emergency beacon), serviced life raft, "throw overboard" MOB buoys/lines fixed to the boat. Properly serviced quality self-inflating life jackets (PFD's) are a must (standard "rule" on past crossings was: PFD's on, from sunset to sunrise and any winds above 20 knots). Preferably PFDs are to be fitted with MOB (VHF-AIS auto-deployed location device) and proper tether lines (Oh, I had long discussions with the ARC safety crew, whether 2-point or 3-point tether lines are better. I stick to 2-point tether lines). I like crew to wear PLB's (Personal Locator Beacons) at night - these are small personal EPIRB devices, allowing to send a satellite distress signal to a coastal rescue station, when overboard and out of VHF/AIS range.
((And yes, rules #1, #2 and #3 on a boat are all the same: "DO NOT fall overboard"))

Navigation equipment

While you can cross an ocean single-handed on a raft with a paper chart and without any auxiliary equipment, I do prefer, on any yacht I sail on for thousands of miles, to have a good chart plotter system - preferably also with a screen at the helm position - with an AIS - Automated Identification System - receiver/transmitter connected to it. Hardly any boat sails across oceans, these days, without AIS.
And a radar, even if only run e.g. once per hour (to save power), can make a passage more safe at night. Not all boats (referring to those &&%%$$!! many small Chinese fishing boats we crossed paths with in our last transat...) transmit an IAS signal, AND a radar will help you to spot rain squalls building up behind you, allowing you to dose your spinnaker in time, or change course to avoid the squall.

Long-range comms

Being a radio-amateur ("ham"), I love HF radio, but long gone are its days as the main long-range comms system on a yacht. "Starlink", is the new norm now: affordable and reliable. And useful for safety, social communications, and downloading weather routing etc... When, last year, our fellow ARC+ boat "Hilma" lost their mast 3 days out of Cape Verdes, one hour after their distress Whatsapp message to the group chat via Starlink, three other ARC+ boats were standing by her for assistance. Do I need to say more? And beyond: my family and friends loved my daily updates during our crossing, via pictures, videos, microblogs, and progress plots.
Beyond Starlink, as a contingency, a small portable satcom device (Garmin Inreach or Iridium Go), is advisable. Not cheap though, comparing their bandwidth/functionality with Starlink, but a good fallback. And -God forgive- something you can take with you in a life raft.

Insurance

There is a more-than-a-fair chance your Med cruising insurance e.g. will not be valid for an ocean crossing. What insurance do you have for the crossing? Insurance fees are notoriously high for ocean crossings, but so are the fees to rescue your yacht and/or crew in case something goes wrong. See also the ARC-chapter.

And now moving onto more "non-boat" topics.

To ARC or not to ARC.

Every year about 100 boats cross the Atlantic in the ARC+ flotilla from Las Palmas to Grenada with a stopover in the Cape Verdes (Mindelo). 200 more boats cross from Las Palmas to Rodney Bay Marina in Saint Lucia about a week later.
I did two transat crossings with the ARC/ARC+ and two crossing "by ourselves".
Participating in the ARC/ARC+ is not cheap. But it has its clear advantages: It is nice to cross the ocean as part of a like-minded group of fellow sailors and the ARC organizers are great in creating that social environment to meet up with fellow ocean crossers. AND the ARC crew create a whole safety/experience-based environment to "chaperonne/mentor" participants into a safe passage.
Once the fleet assembles in Las Palmas, they do safety inspections, run a ton of seminars on topics ranging from "ocean fishing" to "weather routing" or "downwind sailing", organize social events, day-care for the kids (so their parents can prepare their boat), facilitate customs and other administration, help with booking your berth in the marinas, etc..
During the actual passage, they are super-efficient and professional in providing assistance in case of emergencies or incidents. All-in-all VERY well run, and my utmost respect goes to the ARC/ARC+ "yellow shirts"!. Over the years, I often heard a lot of criticism of the ARC, from non-ARC-ers, but I am yet to hear from anyone who sailed with the ARC/ARC+, who thought it was not worth the money.
When we did not cross as part of the ARC, we kinda created our own social network of buddy boats who we picked up sailing months prior in the Med or in preparing the crossing, and we kinda created a virtual buddy-boats' flotilla, with many parties held in our "assembly points" of Gibraltar, Gracioso, Las Palmas and Mindelo. But it is up to you to engage and/or to organize.
Beyond the main transat E-W transat passage, the ARC also organizes group W-E transat crossings, the "yearly migration" from the UK to Las Palmas, and the "World ARC" - a global crossing.
One thing to check out, though is: Many insurance companies give a significant premium discount when you are part of the ARC (or ARC+), as the ARC rules and inspections are rigorous. In our past crossing, our skipper said that his crossing's insurance premium discount, as an ARC+ participant, was bigger than the actual fee he paid for his ARC+ participation. Keep in mind, though, that in order to pass the ARC/ARC+ safety inspection, you might have to buy/install some extra stuff (and spares) which you had not planned for, thus incurring extra costs (also for the sake of extra safety of course).

Food... ah.. Food...

I hope your yacht has a fridge. A freezer is a great "plus": Frozen pre-prepped meals for those "difficult" days, are heaven-sent when the boat is rolling left-right so heavily, it is hell even just to cut those ever-rolling and escaping veggies, leave alone to stand on your feet next to the stove, or keep the boiling water in the pot even on a swivel stove....
Lacking a freezer, and maybe confined to a small fridge: manage your provisions and your meals well. Some fruits and veggies (in those swaying nets!) will last for almost 2 weeks (potatoes, cabbages, carrots, oranges?), and some will last only for a few days (any soft fruits and veggies, bread,...) and are best kept in a fridge. Some food, e.g. cold cuts for lunch sandwiches, meat, etc. is best kept in the fridge and if well managed, will last well into your passage.
We keep 3 tiers of food and store accordingly: (1) short lasting: to be consumed in the first week - in the fridge (2) longer lasting: fresh food to be consumed in the first two weeks kept in nets and dry storage and (3) for ever lasting: canned, jarred or dry foods (or frozen in the freezer).
God bless you if you can bake your own bread/pizza/cake/cookies. After two weeks at sea, the cook becomes the hero. And bless the cook who can dish out a savoury meal after two weeks at sea without a fridge! And heaven-sent is the smell of freshly-baked bread or pizza a week into a wild crossing!

Itinerary and weather routing

Moving on.., but no less important though! No matter the safety equipment, how well the yacht is equipped, with the best cook and food, if I can not agree on a sound (and in my mind "the right") overall itinerary with the skipper, I will hesitate to step aboard.
First of all, good weather routing software/apps are a must. Forecasts to be downloaded daily. I swear by Predictwind's ECMWF forecast (with the GFS model as a backup), for wind, swell, precipitation and CAPE (lightning!) forecasts. AND I like a way to download those forecasts - in high resolution and over a wider area - fast! ("Hurray to Starlink!" - higher res forecasts over a larger time-period and larger area via Iridium Go take forever, argh!...)
But even then, a solid overall routing plan is a must, avoiding the turbulent areas, favouring the -maybe slower- trusted routings. E.g. In an E-W transat, I favour the longer route to go down to 12°-11°N or even 10°N to avoid wind-still or even upwind turbulent areas. Longer, but safer, is what I like.
Note: I take Predictwind's automated weather routing as "advice", but always make up my own mind what route I want to take, based on an overall weather systems in a wide area.

Emergency procedures and basic rules

I have crewed in trans-ocean sailing yachts where the safety briefing took 5 hours and on other yachts where we never got a safety briefing.
I like to sail on a yacht where the basic emergency procedures and rules are clear. E.g.: Safety jackets on between sunset and sunrise and with windspeeds above 20 knots. No-one on the bow at night unless a 2nd person is present in the cockpit..., etc
But also basic procedures like "what to do in case of MOB ('(Wo)Man Over Board' - my nightmare scenario), and a clear agreement on the chain of command if the skipper becomes incapacitated, are a must. Or even more basic: what are the rules on the consuming alcohol onboard? On my past passages, we either agreed on "no alcohol" or "one beer only at sunset".
Or more basic: in case of emergency: who to contact on what telephone number, in what way, giving what details, for what purpose?

Crew and watch systems.

Sure you can sail across any ocean single-handed, or short-handed. This might not be the most comfortable and enjoyable crossing you had, though. Depends what you look for and prioritize: excitement, comfort, or safety,..
I sailed a 72ft racing cruiser with only me and the skipper. And I loved it. For 5 days. Not sure if I'd like to do this for 2-3 weeks in a row, with 4 hours on and 4 hours off watches (and cooking, repairing, cleaning in-between)...
An ocean crossing should be an adventure to enjoy, according to me. Running with two people for days and weeks in a row, might not allow you to fully enjoy the unique experience an ocean crossing offers you. Crossing shorthanded is perfectly "doable", but is that what you want?
An additional note for families with young kids: I met loads of boats with only a mum and dad, and 2-3 younger kids, who cross oceans with the goal of making this "a true family experience". My hats off to them, but if I were them: I would take 1-2 additional crew on board: If not for safety (in case anything happens to one of the parents, or one of them is not feeling too well for some days), then it would be to also spend more time with the kids - who need to be kept safe, and "busy" too: Ocean crossings are typically very boring for younger kids. Talking to many "family-cruisers" with kids, after their passage, most regretted not taking some additional crew onboard.
Ideally, I'd say a crew of 4 sailors is a good quorum. This will allow for a watch system of e.g. 4 hours on, 8 hours off watches, with one of the crew, every 4th day, responsible for the "mother watch": cooking the main meal, cleaning and general house keeping. More crew than 4, is a luxury - and will need more food/water/space,... Less will be more stressful. Your choice to make.
Apart from the "system" of keeping watches etc.., I am picky on how the crew is selected. Are they actually sailors? Have they lived in closed quarters with others before? How do they handle stress? What are their personal goals for this crossing? Are they fit? Do they get sea-sick? The smaller the crew, the more critical the people you select for a crossing. Luckily for you, dear skipper, there are LOADS of people looking for a crew-spot, sharing the crossing's food cost, who are very capable (and often ocean-crossing-experienced) sailors.
As a skipper: select your crew well. As crew: select your boat well, as, believe me, it is the "people" which will make this crossing a heaven or a hell for you.

I hope this basic checklist helps you in preparing for safe(r) and enjoyable ocean passage! The better prepared, the more you will enjoy those fabulous ocean sunsets, the stars at night, the pod of dolphins swimming at your bow, with the wind in your hair and the salt on your skin. And that is what ocean passages are all about: to enjoy a life's unique experience!

Read the full post...

Sailing a MOD70 - Speed is a drug..

I thought "my need for speed" was out of my system, after sailing on Sisi, the Volvo Ocean 65 (VO65) ocean racer during the February RORC Caribbean600 regatta in Antigua.
But then an opportunity came up to crew on DrekanEnergy, a 70 foot MOD70 trimaran, during a regatta in Bretagne (France). And I could not resist.

MOD70's are amongst the world's fastest open ocean racing boats, only to be beaten in performance (but by a small margin) by "Ultims", 100ft trimarans, who currently hold the world record of the fastest circumnavigation around the globe.
MOD70's are full carbon racing beasts, built with only one purpose in mind: record-breaking speed.
21 meters long, 17 meters wide, 29m tall kanting/rotating mast, with 3 hulls, semi-foiling dagger boards, weighing only 6 tons.

When this class of boats was launched, it was agreed only 7 of them would ever be built. Ours was the first to be launched. Two of the 7 are currently de-commissioned, and over the past 6 months, I have "met" or raced against all four other MOD70's which are still racing: "Argo", "Zoulou", "Maserati" and "Limosa-the Famous Project".

And sailing this MOD70 changed my perspective of "sailing".

During our first training day we had lovely weather, with "only" about 15 knots of wind, but from the moment we hoisted the sails, I realized what this beast-of-a-boat could do: With the least efforts, on that beautiful training day, we went faster than the wind,... almost all the time: With 15 knots of wind, without pressure on the boat or crew, we flew at 23 knots boat speed easily.

For the sailors amongst you: even when sailing at 170° True Wind Angle (TWA), because of the speed of the boat, the Apparent Wind Angle (AWA) was 50°-60°, so this boat never really sails in a downwind configuration: the apparent wind always comes from "forward". Well, same principle as the foiling AC75 America's cups boats: you don't see those flying spinnakers or other "traditional" downwind sails neither. Same on a MOD70!

Contrary to the VO65, where we trimmed the sails continuously, on the MOD70, we hardly trimmed the sails: the boat speed was trimmed purely by the tiller, changing the boat's angle to the wind slightly. As she is so light, the boat speed would pick up 5-10 kts in just a few seconds purely by steering her with slight different wind angles. Doing so, she lifted her windward hull out of the water, and when putting on more pressure, lifting also the center hull up, mainly sailing on her downwind hull and semi-foiling daggerboard.

I thought the below-deck space was limited on Sisi, the VO65, but inside the MOD70, there was far less space: the two outer hulls are empty, and the center hull was really narrow - stretching out my arms, I could touch both sides of the hull with my arms stretched out. Aft in the center hull, there was some storage area, a small stove and a mini-sink. Midships, there was a navigation desk and forward she had three bunks and sail storage space. And that was it, basically..

The next day, the day of the regatta, the weather was completely different than on the training day: it rained and it was heavily overcast, with a low pressure front moving over. We started off in about 20 knots of wind, but it picked up fast. During the regatta, it gusted up to 37 knots. "Normally", when we "cruise-sail", we would not even have left port with that forecast, but wait,... not only were we leaving "safe shelter", but on top of that,we were going to do a regatta in this weather!?!

We had a great start, battling it out with several other big trimarans, including "Actual", a 100ft ULTIM trimaran. But we beat them all at the starting line. This starting line battle made some great photo shots as we picked up speed and all trimarans started to fly over the waves on only one hull, ours in front. With the full professional crew the competitors had, they passed us, 30 minutes into the race. But even that was a thrill to see them racing past us in "full push mode": These are not sailing boats, these are ABSOLUTE beasts,...!

You might think the AC75 America's Cup boats are the ultimate in fast sailing? Pffft, think again: not only do these MOD70/Ultim100 trimarans match the speeds of the AC75s, but the America's Cup boats those are "coastal match racing boats", and would not last very long on the open ocean.

As the wind picked up, we peaked up to 39 knots of boat speed, which was totally and absolutely nuts. I never sailed at those speeds: on Sisi, we peaked 29 knots for a short while, but this MOD70 was constantly flying at 25 knots, peaking easily over 30 knots, with a top speeds of 35+ knots.

Now you need to understand what this means: as we flew through the regatta course, at 25-30-35 knots boat speed, and with a true wind of 30-35 knots, this means, when sailing upwind, the apparent wind speed easily hits 60-70 knots, which is about 110-130 km/h. So the wind and rain hits you at 110-130 km/h. It was the first time I sailed, where some of the crew had to wear goggles to protect their eyes. With water and spray splashing us, all crew were in full foul-weather gear as our outer layer was soaked within minutes. Luckily, with the weather gear we had, our inner layers stayed dry, but... it was cold, and the rain drops hit our faces as if someone was throwing pebbles at us.
It made me feel like I was standing upright on the roof of a car on a highway, with the wind, spray and rain hitting my body at 110-130km/h, with the car jerking left and right the whole time...

And while the MOD70 healed far less than the VO65's 30°-35° heal, I also found the MOD70 to be very stable - compared to Sisi, the VO65: She would have less of an up-down longitude pitch, but there was quite a bit of lateral jerking, as the helmsman moved the tiller left-right to pick up speed. So, one really had to hold on to "something", when moving on deck.
Well "on deck" is relative, as we only had a rather small solid aft platform, the width of the center hull, and all the rest of the boat, the space between the hulls, was one big trampoline. And one does not "walk" over trampolines at that speed: you half-jump over it, while water is rushing below your feet at 60-70 km/h.

It was bloody cold, bloody wet, bloody exciting, and bloody challenging. Especially for me, as I had hurt my back two weeks before and was rather weary not to injure my back again while on the boat. But the 4 "amateur sailors" like me, were well taken care of by the 5 pro-crew, under the guidance of Eric, the skipper.
Contrary to sailing on Sisi where I had some "oh-oooh this is no good...!" moments (when we had two almost-broaches in the middle of the night), I never felt the MOD70 was pushed to its limits, mostly thanks to Eric "protecting" the amateur crew onboard. But it is a weird feeling, seeing the windward hull lifting out of the water by 1-2-3 meters and seeing the water rush under your feet, below the trampoline, at that speed.

And the rush of speed was even more visible, looking behind the boat, looking at the traces we left in our wake. To be honest, I might have become slightly numb, as I did not feel or sense much difference between 25 and 35 knots of boat speed. Both speeds, sensed like "FAST"!. The only big difference was when sailing upwind versus downwind, as the perception of windspeed is quite different: upwind, the wind, rain and spray hit you with twice the speed as when we were going downwind.

We finished the 40 miles regatta course in 2 hours flat, just behind the three other trimarans. All other (non-trimaran) boats finished the regatta after 4 hours racing, minimum. By that time, we were already well underway to our home port: After the race, we sailed another 80 miles, back to "Port-la-Forêt", the base for Drekanenergy, our boat. And that distance, we sailed in just under 4 hours without pushing the boat. Quite a difference compared to the charterboat we sailed some years ago: To cover that distance on a "normal boat!, one would need about 16 hours....

On the way back to our home port, the wind picked up and the Atlantic swell became bigger: this coast is unprotected from the open ocean swells, and it was impressive to see how the MOD70 sailed the waves. It was sooo different, from sailing in transatlantic waves on "slower" boats, where the 3-4 meter waves would run faster than the boat, catch up, lift the boat up and down...
DrekanEnergy moved almost 2x faster than the waves, so we just fleeewwww over them, skimming the top of the waves. Another first in my life: sailing faster than the waves.

I am not sure if I (finally) got that "need of speed" out of my system now. I realize that "speed is a drug", and while I still enjoy cruising and sailing more leisure-ly, from time to time, I do need "my shot", "my kick", "my fix"...

One of the projects I am currently looking into, is to sail a MOD70 in a transatlantic race. Would it not be a thrill to sail a beast like this in 7-8 days across the Atlantic, compared to the past 3-4 weeks it took us?

If you are a sailor and interested in crewing on DrekanEnergy, check out their website.

PS: In one of the pictures, you see the French flag on our stern, torn up. Well, that small flag was brand new at the start of the regatta. We literally sailed the flag to bits :-) :-)

Read the full post...

Behind the scenes: sailing on a VO65 ocean racer...

On an ocean racer, everything is built for speed. The boat is stripped of any comfort. There are no cabins, no beds, no shower, no toilet, no personal space to put your stuff. There is no cooking done on board.

The only personal space you have: each crew has a hook - this hook #7 was mine - to hang your safety jacket and maybe a small bag with your sailing gloves and head torch.

There is no toilet.
Forward below deck, without doors or curtains to close or give privacy, there is "the throne".
It is a carbon fibre bowl (everything on this boat is carbon, to save weight). You can do pipi in it (manually pump water in and manually pump it out. Electrical pumps would add more weight), though most crew (except our female crew), pee standing at the stern of the boat.
If you need to do a #2, you strap a biodegradable bag over the throne bowl, do your thing, make a knot in the bag, put it in a bucket, climb on deck (holding your "bag" in one hand and hanging on for life on anything you can grab to hold your balance), and toss the bag overboard (preferably downwind, otherwise the bag with "your thing" ends up in the boat).
PS: The throne "swivels" on two hinges. So, as our boat heals a lot, the throne stays horizontal through the swivel. I have never done "my thing on a swing" before... There is a "first" for everything in life, I guess.

There is no cooking done on board.
There is one small "cooking" platform (which I got to know intimately as I hit my head hard on its corner while pulling the gennaker belowdecks) with 4 mini compartments: A very small sink with salt water and fresh water pumps, two small compartments (left and right), where crew water bottles are stored. And in the middle, there is a small camping gas stove, which can be used to warm up like 2 cups of water in a small pot. Even for that small amount of water, it takes 10 minutes to heat it up.

We don't take the heating pot off the camping cooker as pouring hot water on a healing/moving boat is a hazard. So to heat water, we (manually) pump some fresh water in a cup, and pour that in the pan. Light the camping burner. When the water is warm, turn burner off (important, don't forget!), and with a cup, scoop up the hot water from the pan into a drinking cup for instant coffee, or into a freeze-dried food bag.

So we never warm up meals in the pan... For warm meals, we warm water, and pour it into a freeze-dried food bag. Close it for 10 minutes and then use a spoon to eat it from the bag. We had good quality, high calorie freeze-dried food on board. Goulash, spaghetti bolognese, chicken curry, mac-and-cheese, vegetarian pasta, meat-potato mash, etc... All of these were stored in a grab bag.
The pro-crew of our boat knew exactly which freeze-dried food to go for: They knew exactly which bags had the highest calorie and tastiest meals. As we were burning so many calories, we were eating almost every 6 hours. I never drunk that much water in my life, neither. As you are sweating a lot, we were -eh- quite active and we were sailing in the tropics, we needed to drink a lot. I think I consumed 3 litres of water per 24 hours. Note: to save weight, the fresh water tank was only 40 litres, so the water maker was running several times a day.

There is no fridge or freezer on board. So your "source of food", are 3 bags: One with all freeze-dried food, one with all snacks (protein bars, chocolate bars, cookies, nuts, muesli..) and one bag with longer lasting fruits (apples and oranges mostly).

I said I know "the small cooking platform" intimately: One time while pulling a big gennaker sail from the deck into the storage area below deck below, I was standing in this area with the cooking platform, "receiving" the sail bag. And instead of the bag coming down half a meter in a go, the boat hit a wave and the 200 kg bag came down 3 meters in a go. I was pushed off my feet, and landed 3 meters further back, slapping the back of my head against the corner of this cooking platform. Luckily, on this boat, there are no sharp corners, to avoid crew to get hurt. It was quite a dive, but apart from a bump on my head, and a damaged ego, I was not hurt...

There is no washing or showering on board.
There is just no space for it, nor can we afford the weight. The small sink we use to rinse our spoons and cups, we also use to brush our teeth, and splash our face.
If you want to clean yourself a bit more thoroughly than cleaning your teeth or splashing your face, you need to use a small cloth from a box of wet cleansing cloths. And that is it.

In the picture you see the "entrance" of the below decks, as you come down from the deck. Left and right the hooks for our safety jackets, left and right each 2 bunks. Grab bags for freeze-dried foods, snacks and fruits. Middle under white cover, the engine (mostly used to come in-out of the harbour, and to charge the batteries). The cooking/washing sink, water bottle storage and bags on the wall with instant coffee, sugar, dry powder milk, some plates, spoons, paper towels.

PS: this picture gives the wrong impression as if it were bright below decks. It is an enhanced picture. During the day or night, it is dark, like really dark. During night, there is only a very faint red light in each compartment, so we use head torches with red lights (no white light allowed on this boat at night, with one exception: to look at the sails while trimming).

This boat, below decks, is really, mostly, empty space.
So, below decks, there are three compartments: As you come down from the deck, the central area with 4 bunks, the "cooking area", food storage, engine cover (oh and also the window to look at the kanting keel): the aft area with 8 bunks, navigation station and media desk.
And then forward, apart from "the throne" (our substitute for a toilet), there is nothing. Just empty space. That is where we store the sails. It is just one black carbon fibre space-ship like area, with no light. And where sound from the deck (grinding winches) and waves hitting the hull, are amplified...

A big black whole of nothingness. But exciting, by itself, as it give you the sound, touch and feel of just mere raw optimization for.... speed.

There are no beds on this boat.
Below decks, there are three main compartments:
In the middle, as climb down from the deck, you have the space you saw in previous pictures: the cooking platform, our hooks for safety jackets, 2x two bunks, food grab bags, access to engine and kanting keel.
Forward is an empty compartment with "the throne" (substitute for a toilet) and sail stowing area.

Aft is a space with 2x 4 bunks (4 on each side), and in the middle, the navigation desk, and aft of that, the "media" desk. Both desks' seats are on one side: a two person swing, which keeps you horizontal somehow.
So, in the aft compartment there are 8 bunks and 4 bunks in the central area. The bunks are a bare-bone frame of carbon with a woven mat. The angle of the frames is adjustable, so, if you sleep windward, you can adjust a rope, fixed to the ceiling to basically tilt your bunk 30-40°, avoiding you to fall out and hurting yourself.
The 2x 2 bunks in the central area, are slightly higher from the bottom, so they also have straps, as in that space, you need to strap yourself in as you would get really hurt if you fall off your bunk when we tack or gybe, or when an awkward wave would hit us.

Below each bunch set, is an area you can store your personal bag. But as there are no compartments in the stowage area, all bags are on top of each other. So as each crew grabs their bag, to get their stuff, your own bag keeps on moving within the stowage area.
As we are 17 crew with only 12 bunks, we are "hot bunking" (sharing the same bunks): no-one has a dedicated bunk. When you come off watch, you look for a free bunk, and climb into it. That by itself is a bit of an adventure as the boat is often healing 30° to 35°. So if your free bunk is the upper one, you step on the side of the storage area, step on the side of the lower bunk (where someone is already sleeping in, trying not to hit or step on them), heave yourself into your bunk, adjust the angle of the bunk with a rope, and hope for the best. After your rest, you take all of your personal belongings, and clear the bunk.

As an interesting note: this boat does not have a "flat floor" or floor boards. The bottom - which you use to move around - is the actual hull, and is slanted. And it gets wet. So moving around forward and aft, below decks, is an "art" to hold your footing, trying not to twist your ankle, keep your footing, holding on with your arms to whatever you can hold on to...

We run on 3 hours on-shift and 6 hours off-shift. But when we do maneuvers (tack, gybe, hoist or drop sails), we needed to have all hands on decks. So you never know, in your "off" period when you will be called on deck. And normally we only get a 5 minute warning before any "hands-on-deck"... This might be during the day or in the middle of the night. So it can be quite a scramble to get ready.
Many times, when I knew manoeuvres were coming up (as in this regatta, we were sailing inbetween islands and course markers, I could estimate how long it would take until we reached the next manoeuvre), I just did not undress nor did I even take off my safety jacket during a rest period. I just grabbed my sleeping bag compressed into a tight bag, from my personal storage bag, which I used as a pillow cushion, and tried to rest. I never "slept" during our 3 days regatta. I kinda dozed off a bit, as a "all hands on deck" call could come any minute.

The compartments, where the bunks are, apart from a very faint red light, are completely dark. Dark during the day, darker-er at night. Apart from using our red-light head torches, no other light can be used. So sometimes it is a bit of a challenge to find your own storage bag in the stowage compartment, and go through your stuff, at night... I was looking for my spare socks in my bag, one night, as mine were soaked when our bow took a nose-dive. But I never found them in my bag...

The central area bunks were the least popular to sleep in, as this was also the space where crew came down from deck and went up, prepared their freeze-dried food, dressed and undressed, so loads of red light torches, people talking, bumping into your bunk etc... It was also the area which was used to push sails up on deck, and drop sails down below. So "a lot of activity"...

Note to be made: as our below-decks was pretty hollow, and housed in a carbon fibre hull, it acted as a sound-amplifier, a boom-box. Every trim, or sound made from the deck got amplified below decks. But it did not bother me, the sounds belowdecks were less than on the catamaran we sailed across the Atlantic 2 months ago!

Read the full post...